I have often said myself, and been told by others, that I have the emotional range of a teaspoon when it comes to men. The amount of fucks I give would barely even cover that miniscule amount of surface area. I can’t quite remember if I’ve always been that way (less likely), or or if its something that’s developed throughout my tumultuous journey through life (extremely likely). Either way, I decided to use my satirical spin on my amorous adventures in life in a creative outlet, also known as, tell the world through the written word (and the internet)
For one thing, this isn’t emulating Bridget jones diary, she opened with a quip about her smoking habit and I’ve never even put one to my lips. So that’s out. And all her diaries seem to centre around one main man with one or two extras on the side. THIS diary is going to go through all the men I’ve ever known (in the biblical sense) my entire life. The details will be scanty on the early years, a few facts, a nickname maybe. My memory is pretty damn good, but I’ve crammed so much into my head throughout my life that its unsurprising I’ve forgotten anything beyond the pertinent facts. So as we move on the dirt will get dirtier, the goss juicier and, well, shit will get better, as it usually does. It goes without saying, that this little piece is based on real events and real people, so everyone will be identified only by nickname to protect their identities. But also because sometimes I’m not actually sure if I know their real name and the code names I used to my friends became the only way to remember them!
Because this whole idea came to me while I was on the train into work, I don’t actually have my list with me, so I don’t think I can remember exactly who number two truly was…not that I actually think it’s in correct order anyway, but I, of course, remember the first….
The Emotional Range of a Tea Spoon 